


Soft As The Voice That Hums You To Sleep

by InkyBlue



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Baby Boba Fett, Gen, Good Parent Jango Fett, Jango Fett is the best dad, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:08:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28495866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkyBlue/pseuds/InkyBlue
Summary: “It’s nearly sunup,” Jango responds. Boba rubs his knuckles into one of his eyes and then drops his hand into his lap, squinting at Jango like he can barely keep them open in the first place, and Jango couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a little smile he tried. “You should be asleep by now.”“I was waitin’ for you,” Boba mumbles, and there’s that pang through Jango’s chest again, intense as a laser bolt to the heart.Jango makes it back late to Kamino after a job. Boba, stubborn as he is, refuses to go to bed until his dad gets home to tuck him in.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett
Comments: 9
Kudos: 86





	Soft As The Voice That Hums You To Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some softness with these two. Jango is the best dad and loves his son so much and I'm FOREVER melting over it.

He really hadn’t meant to make it back this late.

Well, late is a relative term here, Jango figures as the door to his apartment hisses shut behind him. One could argue it’s bordering on early, though you’d barely know it with the near never ending cover of clouds that blanket Tipoca City like a dreary canopy. 

Either way he’s long overdue and he knows it; helmet off and tucked beneath his arm, he runs through explanations in his head while he toes off his boots, then pads as quietly as he can muster to his room to remove the rest of his armor- a shedding of his solid metal skin into something softer, flowy and unrestricting. 

He barely gets his tunic on over his head before he hears it- that little voice, crackled with sleep and hopeful curiosity, drifting out of the room across from his own. 

“Daddy?”

It sends an initial pang of- Jango doesn’t know exactly what to call it, something along the lines of muscle relaxing relief and love. The sudden flick of a switch he hadn’t known he’d needed between the man with his finger on the trigger and an overwhelming sense of being home, reunited with the only real thing that matters in his life. 

The feeling slowly melts itself into a fond sort of exasperation that purses his lips, and he steps out of his room and crosses the hallway to poke his upper half through Boba’s door. 

“It’s nearly sunup,” Jango responds. Boba shifts and sits himself up a little straighter in a bed that nearly swallows him whole, dwarfing him even more than he already is. It’s a wonder to Jango sometimes, that something so small and delicate could come from someone like him. 

Boba rubs his knuckles into one of his eyes and then drops his hand into his lap, squinting at Jango like he can barely keep them open in the first place, and Jango couldn’t stop his lips from curling into a little smile he tried. “You should be asleep by now.”

“I was waitin’ for you,” Boba mumbles, and there’s that pang through Jango’s chest again, intense as a laser bolt to the heart. It makes him snort a soft laugh.

“I thought MU-12 was supposed to tuck you in, ad’ika,” Jango says, and it’s phrased like a question but he says it like a statement, something he and Boba  _ both  _ know clear as day is how it was  _ supposed  _ to be. 

“They did!” Boba insists. He’s got a little more of his liveliness back in him, spurred on by his fathers presence, but there’s still a drowsy edge to him that Jango sees right through despite his effort to hide it. “But tucking in isn’t the same as sleeping.”

Another snort, and Jango shakes his head before stepping farther into the room and up to Boba’s bed, smooths a hand over Boba’s unruly curls once he’s close enough that Boba wrinkles his nose at. 

“Did you get  _ any  _ rest?” He asks as he lowers himself to sit on the edge. Boba shrugs.

“Some,” he says, cryptic as ever, then clambers over to grab at Jango’s arm and pull him closer. He doesn’t succeed much in actually getting Jango to move on his own, but Jango goes with him nonetheless and ends up leaned back against the pillow Boba doesn’t use, sprawled out over the covers until Boba grabs at them and tugs with a little whine. Jango sighs and lifts his legs long enough the blankets are no longer trapped beneath him, and Boba smiles a sleepy, pleased smile and tosses them haphazardly over Jango’s thighs once he’d lowered them back onto the bed. 

“What took you so long?” Boba finally asks once he’s all nice and cozy curled into Jango’s side, head pillowed into the crook of his arm and cheek mushed against his chest. 

“Job was a little more complicated than expected,” Jango replies, equally cryptic. No need to bother the boy with the details at this hour. 

“Did it go good? Like you wanted it to?” Boba continues, and Jango, dragging his hand up and down Boba’s arm, huffs a chuckle through his nose and pauses the repetitive motion to give Boba’s shoulder a small squeeze. 

“It went well, yes. Very successful.” 

Boba hums a contented noise in the back of his throat and nuzzles his face a little more against Jango’s chest. He’s fighting a losing battle against his heavy eyelids, Jango can see it in every slow blink and the yawn he tries to muffle against the material of Jango’s tunic. 

“That’s good,” he responds, voice sleep slurred, and fists a handful of Jango’s tunic in his right hand from where it’s slung over his stomach. “... Does ‘at mean you’ll be staying longer this time?”

There’s a small, desperately hopeful tone that wraps its way around his words, and it both amuses and breaks Jango in equal measure, unable to hide from the undeniable truth of just how much time he misses when he’s away on a hunt. 

“Yes, Boba,” he reassures his son, squeezing Boba’s shoulder once again as he takes the small hand on his stomach and wraps it up in the warm hold of the other one of his own. “It means I’ll be staying here with you for a good while now.”

It earns him a close lipped, satisfied grin as Boba wriggles his hand around in Jango’s grasp so that he can curl his fingers around Jango’s thumb, and even though Boba’s eyes- battle lost to the heavy weight of his exhaustion- are now closed, Jango smiles right back and bends over to press a lingering kiss to Boba’s hair. 

“‘M glad you’re back,” Boba half whispers a few beats later. His grip on Jango’s thumb has gone a little slack, and Jango graces his head with one last kiss before moving to rest his cheek against the top of Boba’s hair instead. 

“So am I,” he murmurs, and maker above, he means it with every aching, bone weary part of himself. It’s what makes it all worth it in the end, he thinks, swiping his thumb back and forth over Boba’s shoulder as he sucks in a long, deep breath and lets it out on a low hum- some approximation of a lullaby he’d been sung to when he was a child what seems like a lifetime or more ago. 

A purpose, beyond the money, the reputation. A reason to make it back home. 

The hum trades itself for words eventually, loose and gentle in the Mandalorian tongue, and Jango can feel more than see the way Boba barely makes it into the second verse before he’s out, snuffling and shifting quiet as anything against Jango’s side. Jango continues on despite it with his eyes closed. 

He cherishes this, bottles it all up to save for later, years and years away from now when times like this are nothing more than a distant memory. 

He knows as well as any that these moments aren’t things meant to last. 

**Author's Note:**

> ad'ika: mando'a for little one, can also mean son or daughter (son, in this case)


End file.
